After we had all woken up and they had given me some Advil so I could be presented to public without cussing somebody out, J.B. drove Frank's car to McDonalds.
I watched the coffee before me. My hair had fallen nearly all around me, blocking me off from the outside world. It was just me and the coffee, and right then, there wasn't much of me that was functioning the way it normally would.

I watched a few little bubbles float on the brown surface, and I breathed in a deep breath, letting my nose get all filled up with the delightful smell of coffee.

"Do you want your McMuffin thing?" Frank asked me. I looked up, retreating from the thoughtlessness of the coffee world.

"No," I said simply, handing it to him. It was still in its wrapper.

J.B. looked at me worriedly. I bet she was afraid I was going to stop eating or something. I didn't really felt like I needed to eat or drink or laugh or anything right now. All I needed was to sleep and forget Haley Helems' Halloween party.

"How do you feel?" J.B. said slowly.

"Pissed," I said, feeling anger flare up.

Mikey smiled a little as he stared out at the overcast sky.

"Are you gonna tell us what happened?" Frank asked, swallowing his food. "Cause I think that's something we all really want to know."

No, thought the hung over side of me angrily./ I don't feel like talking about the shitty night I had last night./

And then the other side, the nice, not hung over side said, Yes. I want to tell the whole story from the very beginning.

I hated it when I was divided like this.

I looked about, and then watched the coffee.

"Maybe," I said slowly, watching a little bit of steam rise up off the coffee and melt into the air. I wished I could do that, just melt away. Except still be there, sort of.

I did want to tell. But who really wanted to listen? Who wanted to listen to know more than just some interesting gossip for Monday?

And I thought,/ They do. These are my true, die-hard friends. If anybody truly wants to know, they will./

So, before I could talk myself out of it, I said quickly. "If I tell, you all can't tell anybody else."

Mikey smiled at me sleepily. "We swear by the code of the McDonald's booth."

I smiled a little, took a deep breath to fortify myself, and then began.

J.B.'s Point of View

"Well, to clear one thing up, I've had a crush on Gerard since fifth grade," Leila started hurriedly. I felt Mikey stiffen beside me, and Frank quickly turned in his seat to see if Leila was joking. But by the way she was blushing, it was obvious she wasn't. Frank and I exchanged a knowing look, and then turned our attention back to Leila.

She seemed distressed by Mikey's reaction.

"Mikey, when we...kissed, I didn't think I liked him any more," she said hurriedly. "I honestly thought I had a crush on you, then." Mikey relaxed a bit.

"Wait.." Frank said slowly, registering what Leila had just said. "You and Mikey /kissed/?"

"Yes," said Leila defensively. Frank just shook his head, but was silent.

"Well, I've always liked Gerard. Which was why I blew you off to work with him, Mikey, and I'm sorry about that and everything. Anyway, you know how we were both vampires last night? Well, I kept on thinking that we could've been vampires together and stuff, yes, Frank, I know that sounds stupid."

"Whatever. Anyway, that was making me sad. I got thirsty, and went and got some punch when J.B. went to talk to Frank." I froze, remembering this was when I had divulged the plan to Frank. "The punch tasted weird, and I knew it had alcohol in it. But it made me feel a little bit better, so I kept on drinking it, and I got more."

"So, you purposely got drunk?" Mikey asked. I quickly hushed him, hoping that one of the workers wouldn't hear him say that. But it wasn't like they, standing at their little fry-making ovens, would particularly care...

Leila sighed. "Yeah, I guess so. And I feel kind of bad about it now. I definitely wouldn't have if I knew I would have this hellish hangover today." She gave a little bark of laughter at this, except I could tell she didn't really find it funny. "After a while, I really started feeling bad, so I stumbled down the hallway to the bathroom. Flung open the door, and there's Gerard and Amy making out."

I looked at her sadly. I knew this had rent a deep tear in her heart. Leila was the kind of person to be affected by something like that.

"That sucks," Frank said.

"Yeah," Mikey agreed with a nod.

"That made me feel really, really sad," Leila said slowly. "And I still felt sick, and I really didn't want Gerard to see me throw up."

"You should've thrown up on Amy," Mikey said supportively. "She's a bitch."

Leila gave a genuine laugh, which I was relieved at. I was getting afraid that she might go and try to kill herself or something; she seemed that depressed right now.

"Well, I stumbled outside and threw up, and then you guys arrived and you know the rest."

"There's more to it, though, right?" I asked slowly. Leila gave a tired nod.

"But I don't want to go into all that detail," she admitted. I understood that. Afterall, this was still fresh to her, and the fact that she was hung over probably wasn't helping.

After a moment, Leila looked at us all, scrutinizing us. She looked strange. The intelligent gleam wasn't in her eyes right now. It was just a tired, sad girl who was very lost. Her hair hung in messy curls around her face, and if you stared hard, you could still see the subtle remains of heavy eyeliner around her eyes. It was strange, seeing her in one of Mikey's Anthrax shirts. Leila seemed small, defenseless. I had never seen her this way before. /Ever/.

"You know what?" she said softly, and I knew the hang over wasn't addling her brains right now. "You are the first people I've ever told about any of this." She stopped, as if letting it sink in.

She looked up, her blue-green eyes surveying us warmly. "And I wouldn't have chosen anyone else. Thanks for listening."

Gently, a few tears slipped from her eyes and ran off her nose into her coffee, but she smiled. It was a radiant smile, a pure smile.

We all grinned back at her, and I leaned forward and touched her hand briefly.

This was the closest I think Leila has felt to any of us in a long time.

Leila's Point of View

I spent the rest of the weekend hanging out with Mikey and J.B. and Frank.

It was strange how I had never hung out with Frank before.

It was odd I had never really introduced Mikey and J.B.

But it was not weird that we could all just hang out and do stupid stuff all weekend.

They kept me sane.

Frank played the guitar to us and Mikey would sing along in his terrible voice.

We drove around the neighborhood. We bought slurpees and suffered through brain freezes together. We played stupid games like tag in the park.

And I knew the whole time that this was far better than me sitting all alone in my room, feeling so disappointed at how the party had gone.

I didn't see Gerard except for one brief instant, where we had all trooped through the Ways household to get a drink. And none of us acknowledged him.

They formed a 'We Think Gerard Is An Idiot' club to make me feel better.

I felt my feelings for him really start to waver this time.

Afterall, it's hard to continue liking someone with all of this going on. I also realized it was totally illogical that Gerard could have a crush on me in return.

I laughed inside at that one thought I had had about loving Gerard.

Not possible, I had thought merrily, dismissing it.

And yet, somehow, Monday still managed to suck.

And it was because Gerard wasn't even looking at me. If his eyes even managed to wander in my direction, it was like he had seen through me.

I told myself it was because it was hard for me to drop the feelings I had once had so suddenly.

And, by Friday, I half-believed it.

I suppose, if you tell yourself a lie enough times, you start to believe it.

That's what happened.

But I felt better because of it.

Except, that Friday afternoon, something pretty bad happened.

Friday, Fourth Period
Each of my classes is an hour and a half long, and fourth period is always the worst class of the day.

It's stuck in between right after lunch and right before the last class, which is a sucky place to be in a schedule. I feel kind of sorry for the teachers who have to put up with these kind of classes.

Anyway, I had to go to the bathroom towards the end of fourth period. Mrs. Sanders, nodding wearily, let me go.

I walked down the quiet halls, the pass held tightly in my hand.

The halls always seemed kind of threatening to me when there wasn't a wild mob of students pushing and shoving to get to their next class. It seemed terribly quiet, and large.

I pushed open the door to the bathroom, and then paused.

Amy was fixing her makeup in front of the mirror.

I continued moving before she saw me stop, keeping my head down and heading into the stall.

Quietly, I came out and chose the sink farthest from her to wash my hands in.

"Did you enjoy the party?" she said slyly as she put on powder.

"Sort of," I said quietly, wanting to be out of there, but somehow, I couldn't bring myself to leave. It would be like running away.

Like being a coward.

And somehow, if I stood up to her, I wanted her to go and tell Gerard what I had done, for him to at least think about me. With this in mind, I got the urge to fling water at her or something.

She put away the powder, and brought out some lipgloss.

"I thoroughly enjoyed the party," she purred, and I saw one blue eye flick over to me, where I was standing as I watched my face in the mirror.

"That's good for you," I said quietly. Perhaps, if I had said it with more aggression, it wouldn't have sounded so lame. But it did.

"Gerard's an amazing kisser," she said loudly.

I said nothing, except I felt my fingers curl into a little fist.

"But you wouldn't know, would you?" she purred, finishing with her makeup and now observing her own ugly, disgusting face. "Even though you would so like to."

I absolutely couldn't help it.

I flung myself at her, knocking her to the bathroom floor.

Amy shrieked, but I didn't catch her off guard as much as I would've liked. She glared at me, and then took her French manicured nails and slashed me across the face.

I gasped and whirled back, covering up my cheek. It felt like it was on fire.

I kicked her in the shin.

It's a trademark move of mine, and I must admit it did very little.

After that, I can't quite remember exactly what happened.

We were rolling around on the floor, though. She was scratching and biting and kicking, and I was pulling her hair and punching. Gerard, afterall, had taught me how to fight, and I fought like a boy.

Some idiot hall monitor had heard Amy's shrieks and stuff, and she rushed in, saw us fighting, and then hurried out, returning with two real, large teachers.

They us hauled apart.

Amy was composed, didn't struggle against them.

I flung myself away from the man in vain in the attempt to escape, to keep on trying to hit her, hurt her again.

And I realized all of a sudden why.

For Gerard.

Because I felt bad for him for being stuck with Amy. I felt bad for not telling him my feelings. I wanted him to notice me, to see me as the kind of girl he would love.

And before I knew it, I was seated in the hall outside of the assistant principal's office, hearing Amy tell a tale I knew to be quite false.